


Ashes of Tanagura

by MelodyDark



Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, More angst, Psychological Trauma, Sex, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyDark/pseuds/MelodyDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a few months since Iason and Riki died in a deadly blaze. Jupiter brought Iason back to life, unable to continue without her favorite Blondie. Upon Iason's own request, Raoul brings Riki back even though Jupiter forbid doing so. On the run from the moment of his revival, Riki retreats to the Slums of Camas to hide.</p>
<p>Yeah, so a lot of stuff happens. More than I can put here because I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I promise I already have it planned! It will happen! Sex stuff will happen too, I just have to get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

     Blue sparks of lightning erupt from any and every crevice of the quickly deteriorating structure that was Dana Bahn, snaking across the damaged surfaces in its wake. Giant hunks of metal hang from above, threatening to snap at any second and crush the delicate human boy below. Another wave of explosion rocks the ground he stands on, leaving flames to take the place of a worn out piece of machinery nearby. He flinches, covering his ears from the painful noise so close, but keeps pressing on. Deafening groans sound throughout the destruction zone, begging for anyone to run to safety. Despite what his instinct screams at him, Riki continues on down the path he has set for himself. _I love you, Guy, but you could never be the one._ A tear falls for the lost pairing partner, but a darting hand wipes it away. There is no room for doubts with the resignation Riki has made. What Guy did was cruel, more cruel than Riki could ever dream of being, but it was he that drove his own friend to it. Through death he will atone for all the heartache he has caused for both Guy and Iason.  
Another wire snaps, raining sparks down in a fiery display. Riki quickens his pace, worried that the place will go up before he can reach Iason. Tucked away in his pocket is the means of a painless death, Katze's way of expressing his approval for this decision. The redhead's last look comes to mind, filled with an inexpressible amount of sorrow as he watched the boy he came to think of as his younger brother walk away to die with the only man Katze ever loved. Riki laughs tiredly at his own thought, Katze will always prove that you don't need a dick to be a man. The sight of a walkway comes into view, erasing all thoughts but those of Iason.  
      Across the bridge sits the Blondie, alone in the torrent of disaster. He continues to stare in the direction Riki went, using the last of his fading strength to rescue his friend. Jealousy constricts Iason's throat; in the end, his lover chose Guy. But he also chose to live, walking away forever but retaining the same strong personality of the crazy, untamed mongrel he was when the two first met. Iason's hand unfolds, revealing the Pet ring he so carefully chose for the boy. A symbol of a bond that was thought to be unbreakable except by the one who placed it there. He closes his fist, squeezing until the piece of jewelry shatters into dust; a caged love was never meant to last. The particles float away on a warm updraft, free to wander wherever the breeze might take them. An image of Riki presents itself; smiling and laughing with the wind whipping his hair around while he wildly races down the narrow streets of the Slums. A single tear falls from Iason's cool, wintry gaze, the only one ever in his life. In the many years they were together, he never was able to see that smile for himself. He wipes the tear, staring at the moisture left on his glove with a sardonic thought, _I would have never guessed that Blondies could cry._ The tacking sound of footsteps reaches his ears, ripping his contemplations away from any but a small, double-edged, hope.  
      The two lock eyes, sending both hearts fluttering into an erratic rhythm. Neither would admit to the small happiness harbored inside, even with death encroaching all around. Calmly, Riki walks his last few steps, gazing intently into those sapphire crystals. “Bet you're bored on your own,” he remarks, fists clenched tightly as he forces himself to take a seat. “Thought you might want someone to talk to. Tell me if I'm a nuisance and I'll shut up.” Iason watches, dumbfounded at the decision his Pet, no, lover has made. He should make the boy go, run back before his fate is sealed, but he freed him of any such demands. Riki has made his own choice with his own mind. “It's not my style to flirt, but at least I can curl up by your feet.” He closes his eyes and lays back onto Iason, the weight of such a decision too much for him to bear alone. The gesture is so docile, but yet of his own free will, that Iason is unable to hold back a small smile.  
      An explosion of unusual proportions up until now shakes the foundation of the underground structure, sending rocks from the earth in to reclaim the hollowed out space. Riki realizes that they are almost out of time, and removes the cigarettes from their case. He holds one in his mouth and the lighter in his hand. “You want one?” he asks his Master, no, lover.  
      Contently, the blonde man replies, “Could do. Not bad to have a last smoke with you.” Riki strikes the lighter and holds it to Iason's cigarette. He watches him blow out the smoke, amused at the elite taking part in such a mundane practice. On a whim, he tilts the end of his cigarette up to touch the cherry of the lit one. Riki inhales, feeling the intoxication go to work immediately. _This is our last deep kiss_.  
      The storm picks up, lightning crackling and the raging inferno building to an unmanageable temperature. More rocks descend to crush the man-made intrusion, lacking any sympathy for the two caught in its wake. They puff the Black Moon quietly, content enough with the company of one another to refrain from talking in their final minutes together. Fatigue begins to settle into to Riki's mind, weighing his eyelids down. He begins to succumb to the peaceful feeling, slowly drifting farther and farther away from consciousness. A gentle hand pulls him to rest on a strong shoulder. He opens his eyes, taking in the fair complexion framed by a waterfall of the sun's rays. He takes in every perfect feature, knowing this will be the last time he will see this beautiful face. _I do love you_ , is Riki's final thought before his eyes flutter closed and the entirety of his weight settles into Iason.


	2. New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riki wakes up after being buried six feet under the collapse of Dana Bahn.

           Sensors flash and alarms sound, instructing absolute chaos to commence. Normal body functions begin to take charge of themselves once more, causing the boy to choke on the breathing tube that has been inserted into his trachea. A steady hand removes the artificial mechanism, wiping blood from their patient's mouth and leaving them gasping for air. Dark brown eyes 0pen for the first time in months, squinting against the harsh glare of an overhead medical light. “-u hear me? Riki I need to know if you can hear me.” He has to blink the last of a deep sleep away before he is able to focus on any single object, finally making out the face of a Blondie. “Can you hear me?” The man repeats himself.  
Riki's brain kicks into gear enough for him to understand. “Yeah,” he tries to say, but his voice will not come. Giving up, he nods in acknowledgment.  
The familiar man returns an approving nod, hurriedly unhooking him from an assortment of tubes. He disappears from the room for a moment, long enough to retrieve a syringe with an empty vial. Riki withdraws from the sharp object violently, snatching his wrist from the large man's grasp. The Blondie is taken aback for a moment, repressing a surge of anger for the ignorant mongrel, before recognizing the transparent fear in the boy's widened eyes. Holding a hand out to the shaking creature, he speaks in a soothing tone. “I'm not going to hurt you. I only need a blood sample.”  
           No amount of compassion shown can make Riki calm down. Something deep in his mind warns him that this man is not to be trusted, that he would not hesitate to kill the boy the second an opportunity showed its face. He rises to his feet, shakily, with the bed supporting most of his weight. His doctor moves to hold him up lest he drop to the floor, jumping back swiftly when Riki comes around slashing an oversized scalpel through the air. Patience worn to the breaking point, the Blondie grabs the hand holding the weapon, squeezing until, with a pained cry, the metal object clatters to the floor. Pushing him back onto the bed, he easily wrestles Riki into the restraints that are built into the cot for such unruly patients.  
           Utterly terrified and now helpless, Riki begins to scream and fight against the metal braces until gashes open in his wrists and a sheen of sweat dampens his entire body. Katze, sitting alone in a private waiting area, responds with urgency to the wails that carry down the hall. The scene before him causes his blood to boil. “Raoul, what the hell do you think you're doing!” The red-head starts toward the man with a vengeance, removing the instrument that he had been trying to jab into Riki's arm.  
“You have no clearance to be in here. Leave before I-”  
“Before what? Before you scare this boy to death, or before I report your oh, so wonderful treatment of his Pet to Iason?” Golden eyes shimmer, daring the Blondie to challenge his word. Raoul opens his mouth to retort, shutting it again when he realizes Katze will make good on his threat. He grinds his teeth together, the muscles in his jaw flexing in aggravation.  
           He storms out of the room, bellowing behind him, “He better be gone when I come back, or I swear I'll kill both of you mongrels!” Silence rests into the atmosphere. Katze exhales, allowing the last of the situation's tension to diffuse.  
           Sobs grab his attention, soft with the effort of Riki trying to stifle them. Setting the syringe down, completely out of sight, he unlocks the shackles. The kid instantly curls up into himself, shaking uncontrollably and beginning to hyperventilate. Katze lays a gentle hand on his head, pausing when Riki automatically cringes away. “Hey, it's okay now. I'm gonna take care of you.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, stroking the midnight mess of hair and repeating his consoling words. The boy's breathing pattern gradually returns to normal. Katze grabs some nearby bandages to repair the newly inflicted wounds on Riki's wrists, running his fingertips all the way up his tan arm before trying to wrap the gauze. He tips the younger mongrel's head up, forcing the two to make eye contact. “Riki, you remember me, don't you? You know who I am?” The questions solicit no answer, the brown eyes meeting his vacant of any recognition or emotion. He sighs, finding himself slightly hurt by the unintended rejection.  
           Katze retrieves a set of clothes, borrowed from Riki's own closet. Looking at the smooth leather, he can't help but wonder if the exciting and daring mongrel will ever be fully restored to what he once was, or if this dance with death has broken him beyond repair. “Here,” he offers the outfit, “we need to leave soon.” Wordlessly, Riki sits up and dresses. The ex-Furniture steps out briefly to give him privacy, taking the time to call Iason.  
           “You sure you don't want me to bring him to your house?” Katze asks, still confused by the request to let Riki stay at his place.  
           “I'm already on the way to your apartment, Katze. I'll be waiting for your arrival.” Thus ends the conversation. He runs an irritated hand through his hair before returning to find Riki on the floor. He hooks an arm around the kid who can barely walk, taking most of his weight to let Riki concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. With slow but sure progress, they finally make it to Katze's sleek silver ride.  
           The redhead lights up a cigarette on the drive, offering one to Riki but finding the gesture entirely ignored. Riki simply stares out the window with his chin propped on his hand, intently taking in the scene that is still Midas. This city's antics would not even stop with the death of Jupiter's golden boy, let alone a feral mongrel of the Slums.  
“How long?” The question pierces the silence, sending an icy arrow into Katze's heart. He knows what Riki means. How long was he asleep, trapped in the numbing darkness while his body lay in ruins on a table, the parts being sewn back together piece by charred piece.  
           Katze clears his throat before answering softly, “Seven months.” He watches closely, gauging the kid's reaction to such news. Nothing. The man takes a long drag from the cigarette in hand, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the single tear that falls down a beautifully destroyed face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've looked over this a few times and realized my characters may seem a little OOC, but I want to capture the emotional changes something like dying would bring about. If you find anything unreasonable or just simple errors (or just want to leave me love <3) feel free to leave a comment (: (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iason begins to realize that being a Blondie entitles him to only so many things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being shorter than intended, but it seemed like a natural stopping point when I wrote it. Oh well, hope you guys enjoy, leave me your critiques and (hopefully) love <3

        “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Katze flicks the ashes from a half-smoked cigarette, addressing his Blondie employer over an amber glass of Scotch. The faint whoosh of running water flows through the apartment, Riki taking a shower providing an opportunity for the redhead to interrogate the other man.

        Iason sighs, unusual dark rings rimming underneath a normally intimidating gaze. It makes him look human, flawing the eerily perfect complexion that could only be manufactured in a lab. “For Riki’s sake and the safety of everyone, I cannot allow him to stay with me. I cannot draw the attention of Jupiter any further.” He takes a sip of his wine, his shoulders sagging underneath the weight of numerous burdens that have managed to accumulate over the last few months.

        A smirk draws the corners of Katze’s mouth up. “Last time I checked, Riki was the one making all the trouble.” He downs the rest of his drink in one gulp and sets the glass aside, training his entire attention on Iason. “Tell me what’s going on,” The Blondie opens his mouth, probably preparing to give a commanding speech about how it is none of his concern, but Katze continues, “and don’t give me that bullshit about it not being any of my business, because it became my damn business the second your lover boy walked through that door.”

        Iason takes a moment to mull over Katze’s brazen demand, blankly staring across the counter, before concluding with a rhetorical question. “Katze, did you miss me while I was dead?” It catches the redhead completely off guard, provoking a deep scarlet to color his cheeks the same intensity as his hair. He takes an indignant drag off his cigarette before throwing the remains into the discarded glass. Iason chuckles at the dead giveaway of his subordinate’s feelings, such transparent honesty that would never be spoken.

        At a rather immature attempt to recover his passive demeanor, he takes a spin around the bar stool before prompting Iason to continue with a drawn out, “Anyhow-” avoiding all eye contact for the time being.

        With a last laugh and shake of his head, the Blondie allows him to change the subject. “Anyhow, Jupiter has expressly forbidden the resurrection of Pets because if the ultimate punishment is given, it is just and should not be undone.” A cold, ominous edge frosts his pale irises as well as his voice, but a steady hand lifts the delicate flute of wine to his lips. He brings it down on the marble counter top with more force than necessary, sending a small crack running up its bell. Katze notes the damage that betrays his Master’s carefully hidden frustrations.

        Recognizing such cues, the younger man adopts a more submissive tone to avoid the direction of that anger toward himself. “If you don’t mind me asking, then how is Riki alive?”

        The Blondie ponders the question for a moment, wondering how much information an employer should divulge to his subordinate. A bitter smile etches itself in a hard line, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “Because some people will do anything, at any cost, for someone they love.” Had Raoul not agreed to the viciously consequential task, what would have become of the famed Tanagura Blondie Iason Mink, beloved son of Jupiter? So many days, too many empty moments of separation flash through Iason’s mind at lightning speed, all adding their own individual grey stroke to paint his quickly darkening mood. A sudden longing for the boy takes hold of him, squeezing his heart in a grip of emotion he has never known before. What he wouldn’t give to be able to take the boy in his arms now, to feel that warmth pressed against his chest and inhale the lingering scent of leather and smoke that is Riki.

        The water from the shower shuts off, kindling the longing into a flame of hope that he might wrap the dark skinned mongrel in his loving embrace, to never let him leave so he will never have to wonder during the space between their separation if they will ever be reunited. His exuberant eyes open and immediately hone in on the closed bedroom door, waiting for his Riki to step through the threshold, flash a wicked grin in their direction, and toss some snide comment at the two of them. Katze picks up on the abnormal light in the man’s expression, the same light he had worn when he expected to find the boy completely restored to his old self from the moment his tan feet hit the floor. He had received a rather harsh shock to find Riki shut down, entirely closed off to everything around him, even the people that he had been closest to.

        He clears his throat to grab Iason’s attention before softly dealing the blow, realizing it might be easier to hear from someone rather than witness it firsthand. “He’s not the same. I don’t even know if he realizes what happened.” The words drown the man’s high expectations in the raging, unforgiving flames of reality. The Blondie nods his acknowledgement to the warning, knowing a human mind would not be able to withstand such trauma without devastating repercussions. Not when he himself often falls victim to the demons lurking in memory, waiting to hook a talon in his fragile psyche whenever he forgets to keep an iron fist wrapped around his thoughts. He often found himself on edge, flinching from a loud noise or shying away from the flame of a candle. Countless nightmares saturated his restless nights, jolting him to consciousness with a film of sweat beading on his ivory skin. Without thinking his hands run lightly over the black pants, following down to his knees where seven months ago his legs had been severed, swimming in a pool of magma. He draws a nervous, shuddering breath in, allowing his exhale to carry some tension away. It matters not what is left of the wild, defiant mongrel he had fallen for, but that there was anything left at all.


	4. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riki is confused when he finds himself seeking the comfort of the same man that once was the only barrier standing between freedom and the heavy chains of being Iason Mink's Pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. This is a long chapter. Sex. I'm so fucking tired. Fuck proofreading, if there's mistakes then comment about it. I can't write a simple 1000 word essay for college but damn it I can go overboard with smut by about 1500 words! Hope you guys enjoy, writing sex scenes is NOT my strong suit so if it's bad then go read Fifty Shades of Horrible Fanfic and then maybe mine won't look so unappealing (: the title of this chapter comes from Madness by Muse if anyone cares, that song is sex in itself.

        Riki allows the towel to unfurl from around his slender waist, studying his reflection with a swiftly rising level of alarm. Horrendous scars pave the roads of destruction that cover his patchworked body. He trails trembling fingertips over the protruding tracks of skin, feeling the strain of every individual stitch holding him together. The worst is at the base of his throat, a collar circling his entire neck to keep him chained to the trauma and fear. He’s nothing more than a rag doll that has been sewn back together at someone’s command. Tears well up in his wide doe eyes. He tries to remember but all he can recall is fire everywhere, the world imploding with him caught in its jaws. He had sat down next to Iason, even rested on his shoulder to give them both comfort, but why? Why had Katze looked so upset, why had Guy been unconscious, why couldn’t he remember anything!

        He whirls, throwing the door open hard enough to make it slam back into the wall. He starts for Iason, furious tears streaming down his grief stricken face. “What the hell are these?” he screams, gesturing at the sickening obscenity tracing from one collarbone to the other. The unadulterated fury of the young man demands Iason to his feet just in time for Riki to start pounding on him. A particularly vicious blow opens a cut across his right cheek, but he catches the boy’s wrists before he can do any further damage and easily holds him at bay. “You think I’m some kinda toy you can just put back together for your own enjoyment?” Riki snaps in Iason’s face, fulfilling the image of a feral animal that is cornered and afraid. He thrashes against the Blondie’s unwavering hold, only succeeding in tiring himself. “Why?” he screams again and again, fighting to throw himself at Iason or pull away he is not sure anymore, until the mantra is swallowed by sobs.

        “Why?” He whispers, sinking to his knees in agony, confused and tired and scared and feeling so many other things he could never begin to understand. The fury drains away, leaving him slumped in a broken heap at the feet of the only man he could ever think of to seek comfort from.

         The sight Riki presents in such a vulnerable state is powerful, almost humbling to the Master who poured every trick and effort, unsuccessfully, into attempting to train the mongrel for three entire years. “Riki,” Iason sighs, kneeling to the boy’s level, “Riki, could you honestly expect me to live without you? Look at me, and hear me well.” He gently turns Riki’s chin up, forcing the boy to make eye contact, to see the sincerity harbored behind his naturally chilly and guarded expression. In a soft, musical voice, he tries to soothe the other. “I brought you back because I do not want to spend another moment of my existence without you by my side.” Despite how composed he is able to keep his demeanor, his voice shakes ever so slightly, breathing the last statement on a whisper. “I brought you back because I love you.”

        The words cut through the blinding fear that had managed to surround him, shedding even the faintest clarity in the haze swirling in the nineteen year old’s mind. He can’t help but latch on to such a promise, to anything that might be slightly stable now that nothing makes sense anymore. His hands wrap around the heinous marring chaining him to the faceless nightmares of fire and ruin, tears running through the empty crevices and embedding their salty bite into the tender wound. “What happened to me?” Riki whispers, collapsing into Iason’s chest in defeat. The Blondie instantly folds the young man into his protective arms, encircling his waist while Riki’s arms wrap tightly around his neck. Moisture drips onto his shirt, but not a single sob escapes from the stubborn mongrel.

        _Suffering in silence, as always._ The musing tugs a corner of Iason’s mouth up, happy to recognize some qualities that not even death can tear from his lover. He smooths a white gloved hand over Riki’s damp midnight locks, touching his lips to the boy’s head in a kiss simply meant to convey comfort.

        The two stay locked together for a while, enough time for Iason’s gaze to drift to the wall length window. Neon lights of all colors glare to the horizon and back, allowing the night no rest from its debauchery and technological corruption. His arms tighten possessively around Riki, tight enough for the mongrel to turn his innocent doe gaze up questioningly to Iason. _Never again, Riki. Never again will you leave me, even if I have to burn all of Tanagura down to prove my resolve. Even if that requires that I singlehandedly corrupt Jupiter, I will never-_

        “Iason, I can’t breathe.” Riki forces out with his constricted breathing capacity, although his tone is one of amusement.

        It takes a moment for Iason to register what he has said, but after a moment he tears himself from regretlessly treacherous thoughts to gaze down upon a fairly concerned pet. He instantly loosens his constricting grip upon realization of what Riki was attempting to say, a small laugh escaping. “Forgive me, Riki, but I now find it difficult to release you.” With an overwhelming mix of sadness and joy, it dawns on Iason that this is the first time he has held the boy in his arms since they smoked those fatal cigarettes together. Seven months of agonizing loneliness burns behind his eyes, melting the frigidity that has dominated his gaze during those endless days of increasingly questionable obedience to Jupiter.

        He tosses his gloves aside before resting a hand against Riki’s face, hand trembling in effort to be gentle, to not break the one that still has so far to go before he is mended completely. Riki leans into the surprisingly warm touch, closing his eyes and allowing his lips to part as a thumb brushes across his lower lip. Iason removes his hand to stroke the backs of his fingers along the boy’s high cheekbones, following his strong jawline back down before tilting Riki’s chin up. So much is communicated in the one look they exchange, speaking volumes that Riki knows he could never find the correct words for, wondering if such words even exist.

        Iason presses a chaste kiss to Riki’s lips, giving the boy more than enough opportunity to escape in the event he would find it necessary to do so, but his lover never pulls away. The Blondie takes his placid reaction as an invitation, carding both hands back through Riki’s thick, damp tangle of midnight locks, coveting the taste of their tongues brushing together. Timid and explorative, to both of them it felt like an entirely new experience; like teenagers stumbling awkwardly through another stage of relationship development. The scent, the taste, the overwhelmingly familiar presence of one another that has been absent for so long is enough to break the iron bonds barring Riki from any feeling but terror and depression.

        Reminiscence of their fucked up past bombards Riki, forcing him to question who the man igniting such passion in him truly is. In frustration and a desperation to crush the negative memories he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Iason’s neck and straddling the man’s lap to push their bodies against one another. Tears fill the space between their lips, and Riki pulls away abruptly, breathing labored and face flushed in a mix of arousal and confused anger. Iason brushes the lines of moisture away, brows knit together in concern. “Is everything alright, love?” he asks in a soft voice.

        _Oh just lovely, what about your fucking day,_ the mongrel thinks sardonically, opting for a simple nod of his head in exchange for vocalizing the remark. Uncertainty lingers in the Blondie’s stare, but Riki gives him no time to dwell on it before smashing his mouth against Iason’s hard enough to make their teeth click together. He loses his fingers in the golden river of sunlight, twining and pulling on his hair until they topple backward to the floor. Iason’s body writhes against his at the abrupt, but welcome, advance. His cock strains against the constricting fabric of his pants, a product of a very naked Riki splayed overtop of him.

        The light brush of fingertips snakes down Riki’s torso, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. He involuntarily shudders when they travel up his back and between his shoulder blades, never once stuttering over the scars marring what used to be a perfect, tan complexion. Trying to bow away from the teasing pressure only brings him against Iason. The man takes full advantage by wrapping a strong, possessive hand around the back of Riki’s neck and pushes them into another long, deep kiss, accepting the moan his lover breathes into his mouth with a smile. As soon as it breaks those mischievous hands run down Riki’s sides to grab at his hips, pushing down and grinding his erection against the mongrel’s own, who elicits an animalistic growl in approval.

        “Do you understand what you do to me, Riki?” Iason asks against his ear, following the sentiment with a none too gentle bite. “Are you prepared to accept the consequences of your actions?” He palms Riki’s hardened cock before wrapping lithe fingers around it to exacerbate his aroused state. With a shudder the boy falls to his forearms, resting his forehead in the crook of Iason’s shoulder and neck.

        They lay thus for a few moments, the Blondie rudely bringing him to his point of completion, so close that every muscle in his body strained taut against the other’s. Riki’s hushed whimpers and cries did wonders for the man’s desire. Iason abruptly shifted his weight to gain the upper hand, shrouding the two underneath a curtain of spun honey. Unable to contain a smile, he lovingly strokes the boy’s flushed cheek before cupping his chin in a firm grip. He takes the mongrel’s plump lower lip between his teeth, applying only the slightest pressure before Riki gasps and attempts to shove him away. In answer Iason bears down enough to release a metallic taste, immediately sucking on the injury almost in an apology. The small addition of pain among a storm of pleasure sends a lightning strike through his wanton body, electrifying every last neuron to the point of release.

        Iason watches in satisfaction as his lover is overcome with pure bliss, pearly ropes of passion spewing across his own torso. He practically arches off the floor with the force of his climax, crying loudly as his face is contorted into the most beautiful expression in all of Amoi. Iason kisses down his neck, Riki lying comatose in the aftermath of such a gorgeous destruction at the hands the Blondie, in that moment not caring what their elusive relationship might be described as. “I love you.”

        The almost silent words barely permeate his hearing, but Riki’s eyes snap open when he finally grasps the full meaning of the phrase. “What?” He stares at Iason’s crystal blue gaze, puzzling at the sentiment now that he truly understood what the man’s personality consisted of. Chaining him, whipping him, trapping and forcing him to submit against his will, how could he possibly find an ounce of requite for the harsh and cruel Blondie?

        He tucks a strand of that crowning rulership behind Iason’s ear, somehow sensing that this man and the other from his memories are different. Something fundamental has been changed during his long absence, and he finds himself grateful that at least one positive aspect could be found among the wreckage. “I love you,” Iason repeats, finding the words no easier to say than the first time.

        Despite the genuity shining through those pools of aqua, Riki pushes further. “Why?” He asks only out of curiosity, twirling a piece of hair around his finger.

        For possibly the first time in his life, Iason finds himself at a loss for words. “Because I do.” He retorts childishly, snatching his hair from Riki’s grip and pushing himself to his feet in one smooth motion. Running water over a convenient dish cloth, he tosses it onto the boy’s chest with a squish. After wiping himself down thoroughly, Riki sits up and aims a perfectly accurate throw at the Blondie’s head, disappointed when Iason doesn’t even have to look up to intercept the projectile. Finishing his wine from earlier (and cleaning up the puddle on the counter due to his tantrum), he saunters back to his partner with a devious glint, pulling him into a hug and planting a kiss on his bruised lips. “How are you feeling compared to earlier, love?”

        Riki takes a moment to assess himself before replying, “A hell of a lot more confused, but I guess better overall now that the damn waterworks stopped.” He rests against Iason’s chest, listening to the heartbeat that somehow calms him to hear. To think that he might have never heard that sound again if Iason hadn’t done whatever the fuck it was he did. “I’m not supposed to be alive, am I?” He whispers, fearing the answer he already knows but still wanting a definite confirmation.

        Iason tenses, holding him at arm’s length and studying him with an almost offended stare. “Why would you ever wonder that, Riki?” Under his scrutiny the boy blushes, gesturing to the many lines of stitches.

        “All the evidence is here. Someone did a bang up job sewing this ragdoll back together!” He gives a sarcastic laugh, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

        Tenderly he takes that hand, placing it flat against his own palm before lacing their fingers together. “Who can say whether someone should or should not be experiencing life. It matters not what course of action was meant to take place, but that you are indeed very much alive, and never looking more perfect.” Riki opens his mouth to argue, but is silenced with yet another fervent kiss. His back hits the wall behind, cornered by the Blondie’s enormous body towering over himself. The taste of wine is fresh, intoxicating enough to forget everything. Iason’s mouth trails down Riki’s neck and collarbone, not quite biting but allowing his teeth to graze the sensitive areas. This earns him a throaty moan from the boy, his erection already pressing against Iason’s thigh.

        “You’re still going to tell me everything,” Riki breathes, ecstasy washing over him when a rough grip jerks his head back.

        “What place are you in to make such demands?” He chastises against the other’s mouth, running his hands on the backside of his thighs to hook Riki’s legs around his waist. The boy allows his head to fall back, unceremoniously thumping against the wall, closing his eyes and losing himself to complete pleasure.

 

        Still seated on the other side of the bar, now with a glass of gin and tonic, Katze watches the two romp on the kitchen floor with a mix of humour and arousal. A wedge of lime hits the liquid with a quiet plink, while, for the hundredth time since serving his time as Furniture, he wishes he had a dick so he could just get off instead of being tortured by the swirling endorphins raging in his bloodstream. With one last longing glance at the two reunited lovers he slides off the barstool and grabs his drink, exiting the scene by way of escaping to his home office.

        With a heavy sigh he drops into the executive chair seated in front of a line of monitors, absently clicking into the recent document he had been at work on. By Iason’s request he was to open a new communications line with the neighboring planet of Promethium, respected for their reputation of handling ‘alternative power sources’. The redhead snorts at the overly flattering title, skeptical himself of opening a trading route with a world known throughout the black market for its state of the art nuclear weaponry. Many times he’s wondered what the hell kind of use the Master would find from that, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots here.

        An enthusiastic flame sparks from his lighter. He takes a long drag from a new cigarette before beginning his work, cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck before setting his eyes on the strings of intricate code his fingers deliver. Multiple lines appear at an impossible pace, not one mistake apparent despite the difficult and unfamiliar language of the servers used by Promethium. Soon enough he forgets the taunting pleasure that are unobtainable, instead finding himself reflected in the code spanning across the screens. Precise, commanding, every character playing a purpose to construct the program of his own design. Always reliable, always concrete and more powerful in their technological world than any social status could ever prove to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You fucking leave me love <3 (I'm sorry, I'm so tired). Or critiques. Those are very much appreciated. Shout out to Wraith Fan for your consistently awesome comments!!!


	5. Before Noon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lighthearted, eventful morning as could be expected from these three. Literally nothing but fluff and humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for this chapter, it contains nothing of importance. I just thought this story could use a little humor, unfortunately at the expense of Katze.

        “Riki,” Iason beckons from where he sprawls languidly on a turquoise leather chaise lounge, a loose fitting pair of ebony silk bottoms being the only adornment to his body. Morning rays flood the apartment through the floor to ceiling windows, coloring the interior with a warm golden hue that would make the finest bottle of white wine appear to be dull. He crooks his index finger to summon his lover to him, who reluctantly tears his wandering gaze from the city scape long enough to shuffle over to the Blondie. He pats the space beside himself and Riki nestles himself into the nook created by the curve of Iason’s torso. He wraps an arm around the mongrel’s waist, pulling him close and pressing the boy’s head to his bare chest, running a hand over his midnight tangle of hair in a sorry attempt to smooth some of it out. They lay there for a while, only needing the silence to speak volumes between them, basking in the warmth of the sun.

        Closing his eyes, Riki feels the lingering fatigue from such avid indulgences in his lover so early following the moment of his awakening. The soothing heat works to loosen stiff muscles, and he can’t help but interrupt their cuddling more than a couple times with an exaggerated stretch. “How are you feeling?” Iason inquires after a while, noticing the pleasantly mellow mood in contrast to yesterday’s explosive one.

        “I’m fine,” Comes Riki’s drowsy reply, to which Iason nods his head in approval before mussing his hair in a silly, loving gesture. Riki folds his hands underneath his chin, staring up at Iason from under a deceivingly innocent expression. After a moment he lifts himself up, taking a moment to hold Iason’s quizzical eyes before drifting down to his velvet soft lips before pressing his own to the man’s. The feeling of Riki’s upturned lips against his own coaxes a faint smile to his own features. When the boy tries to pull away, a demanding hand wrapped around the back of his neck is there to deny his efforts. The kiss, as per usual, is deepened by the prodding of Iason’s tongue seeking entry, to which he obediently welcomes.

        “Would you two get a fucking room, preferably one that’s not mine?” Katze stumbles into the living area from the guest room that had been intended for them, greeting the couple with a sight that makes the two of them burst into laughter. The normally pristine, even uptight redhead is now a disheveled mess, hardly able to keep his eyes open and oblivious to the massive knot that his hair has become. He leans against the door frame long enough to light up a cigarette, the only pleasant thing about the morning he could imagine. Checking the clock on the far wall, he grumbles, “Fuck, why the hell am I up before noon?” to himself and manages to retrieve a glass of juice from the fridge without disastrous consequence. It makes it as far as the coffee table before he falls onto the couch placed adjacent to his company, burying his face into the cushions to shield his eyes from the offensive sunshine.

        Iason raises an eyebrow at the manner his subordinate has chosen to conduct himself in despite his presence, amused to finally catch a glimpse of the true nature of his oh, so stoic and favorable Furniture for so many years. The two in the same room together were an obvious demonstration that success could come in many different flavors. “Katze, I must say, you do know how to make an impression upon your supervisor.” Even catching the underlying hint that chastises him for his misconduct, Katze returns the comment with no other effort than a middle finger. The only reason he finds to uncover his face is to take a puff off his cigarette, otherwise remaining limp in his misery of precious hours of sleep that his work had managed to steal. As if reading his mind, Iason asks, “How goes the new project?”

        The redhead stifles a hateful glare, instead offering a halfway substantial report. “They’re damn code definitely makes me earn my keep. I still have no clue what you plan to do with such communication lines, but I’ll give you the initial command sequence before you head out.”

        “Thank you, Katze.” Iason replies, pleased that the man hadn’t backed down due to the difficulty of the assigned task. He had specifically chosen it because of that particular reason, figuring that the man could use a challenge every once in a while. Few computers today even possessed the ancient characters used by Promethium’s technological devices. A harsh planet driven by the sole industry of manufacturing, they had no reason to ever update their languages of any sort. A prehistoric culture in comparison to the ever-progressing Amoi, it was the perfect contender to stay under Jupiter’s suspicion and level of deciphering. The foreshadow of a shifting tide had become apparent to the Blondie in the past few months, along with the necessity of a shift in power. Where it was to shift to not even he could guess, but in the event it took masses of weapons, he and whoever he chose to lend his support to would be well armed and prepared.

         A distinct rumbling sound followed by a timid chuckle catches his attention. Riki holds his stomach in embarrassment, looking to the kitchen in longing when he thinks no one else is paying attention. The other two stare at him for a prolonged moment, for once in his life making him feel self-conscious.

        “I’ll make breakfast,” Katze reluctantly announces, peeling himself from the inviting comfort. He begins assembling various ingredients from the cabinets and fridge, paying no mind to the amount of clanging he causes, every noise beating itself into Iason’s eardrums. Although he had always abhorred the arduous task of cooking, he feels an overwhelming desire to do something for the mongrel that had once been as close as a brother to him, to do something that might spark a memory, desperate for Riki to have even the most shallow level of recognition of him.

        The Blondie is quick to pick up on the other man’s frustration, although Katze doubts he could ever guess where it might stem from. Distracted by his own thoughts and tasks at hand, Katze fails to notice Iason has joined him until he manages to run into him with a bowl of flour in hand. The powder scatters into the air, landing on the two of them and coating the nearby countertops along with the two of them. Horror-stricken, he stares open mouthed at his Master, who stares blankly back while trying to summon a reserve of patience that may or may not exist. Riki, on the other hand, guffaws at the unintentional comedy duo, the sound of his laughter lightening Iason’s mood enough to find the humor in the situation. He throws a casual arm around Katze’s shoulders, shaking the flour from his hair while the other can do nothing but be dumbstruck by the turn of events. Just as uncharacteristic as Iason’s friendly gesture, a deep blush mottles his own cheeks that burn bright as the crimson locks he attempts to brush over the tell-tale signs of embarrassment. _Never again will I wake up before noon_ , he vows to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece of shit deserves no love, but I hope it at least makes one person laugh. Just a heads up, I won't be able to post next week because I'm taking a week-long trip to DC (hell yeah spring break!!!).


End file.
